


Scrapbook Snapshots

by MaryPSue



Series: Return, Rewind, Rewrite [7]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, F/F, Gen, Original Character(s), Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7020109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryPSue/pseuds/MaryPSue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short scenes and ficlets from the world of Return, Rewind, Rewrite that didn't warrant their own fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposting all the things from tumblr.

**Prompt: Lionel and illegal fireworks**

He wasn’t sure where the students had got the stupid things, much less why they’d decided that the library roof was a good place to set them off, but by the time Lionel discovered that the bangs and flashes from overhead were in fact coming from his own roof and gotten up to chase the perpetrators off, they’d already vanished, leaving half a box of fireworks unexploded on the roof behind them.

Lionel shook his head, muttering something under his breath about how universities would be infinitely better places if they didn’t have to have so many damn students around, and then paused; in the distance, red and blue lights were starting to flicker, but the night air was clear and just a little chilly up here, the breeze ruffling what was left of his hair, and two steps forward took him to the edge of the building’s facade where the kids had set up the fireworks they’d set off, to where he could see out across the campus, over the tops of trees, glimpse the roofs of other buildings and see the lights all the way downtown, feeling high and lonely, framed as though on the largest stage in the world…

He looked down, and saw that in their hurry to get away, the mischief-makers had left a single rocket propped against the curling stone lip of the library roof; and left lying beside it, forgotten in the rush, just within Lionel’s grasp, someone had dropped a lighter.

**Prompt: Mother's Day with the Sterlings**

The twins hadn’t been very old when they’d started asking, wanting to know what the holiday was about, why they never celebrated. Lionel hadn’t known what to tell them, had avoided the subject and dodged the questions for as long as he dared, knowing even as he did that, sooner or later, he was going to have to face up to the facts: Maya had left a hole in the centre of their small family, a hole that, no matter what he did, he’d never be able to fill.

He hadn’t considered the possibility that the twins might be ready to face it before he was until the year they turned nine, when he woke up on the morning of the dreaded day to find her photo cycle in the frame-screen by his bed bedecked with bright flower stickers and Belle, sheepish, caught in the act of sticking one to his forehead; it had occured to him as he was following her down the stairs, inhaling the smell of burnt toast and frying eggs, that they didn’t need him to fill the hole that Maya had left.

**Prompt: Belle and Onika on their first date**

A whole year’s worth of plotting, planning, daydreaming, and anticipating had all crumbled in front of Belle’s eyes when Onika, eyes sparkling and wearing a smile to rival the sun, held up her invitation to the finals of the robotics competition she’d entered, with the same date as the night of prom splashed across the bottom of the page; Belle had swallowed her disappointment, though - the girl she’d been planning to ask had just gotten the opportunity of a lifetime, and Belle was going to be at least as excited about it as Onika was, dammit.

She’d agreed to come along mostly to be a good sport, since all her prom night dreams were dashed anyway, but Belle was pleasantly surprised to find that instead of the glorified math class she’d expected, the competition was a series of battles to the death - or at least dismemberment - between bots with cute names and impressive weaponry, and she found herself cheering almost as loud as Onika when her team’s creation won the final bout.

And when Onika turned to face Belle, her eyes shining, and scooped Belle clean off her feet, spinning her around once before planting a huge, deep kiss square on her mouth, Belle had to admit that this was better than any prom night romance she’d been imagining.


	2. Chapter 2

The soft sound of the door sliding along the ancient, greyish carpet made Mike jump in his seat, spinning to face the doorway and the intruder. A shapeless mass of about human height was silhouetted against the dim light from the hall, though before his eyes it shucked the upper half of its covering to reveal - his niece, bundled in a comforter with her thick reddish hair in one fat braid and rings of mascara residue around her eyes.

“Hey, nerd,” Alice yawned, stumbling into the study as Mike unwound. “Whatcha doin’ awake? It’s ass o'clock in the morning.”

Mike glanced down at the array of screens he’d set up so he could look at a runic dictionary, the Hierarchy of Demons, and his manuscript at the same time, and then at the digital display that proclaimed it to be two-twenty-four in the morning.

“Work,” he said. “Very important grown-up work. So important it can only be done while the children are asleep.”

Alice stuck out her tongue at him, her nose wrinkling up in a grin. She shuffled over to Mike’s desk, flopping across his shoulders and wrapping her comforter around them. The comforter, which was somewhat lumpy by daylight, somehow seemed to have magically transformed into the softest thing in the known world. Mike felt his head sinking back into it, and abruptly sat up straight, blinking furiously to keep his eyes open.

“You gotta sleep sometime,” Alice said, leaning over to peer, upside-down, into Mike’s eyes.

“What, is that a threat?”

Alice just laughed and extricated herself from Mike’s deskchair. She flapped the comforter like wings as she shuffled across the room, wrapping it tightly around herself again before she dropped bodily into the armchair beside the bookcase. She shuffled around for a moment, arranging herself so that nothing remained sticking out of the comforter, and stared at Mike’s ear. “I’m not leaving until you go to sleep.”

“Why are _you_ awake, if -” Mike paused, his tired brain finally slotting the pieces together. “Nightmare?”

Alice blew a raspberry, one hand sneaking out from under her comforter cocoon to wave dismissively. “Pssssh. Like I’d come looking for you in the middle of the night just because I had a bad dream.” She didn’t make any move to leave the chair, however, and Mike couldn’t help a small smile.

“Suit yourself. Want to hear all about what I’m working on?” Mike couldn’t help another grin as he said, “I’m sure you’ll be asleep again in no time.”

“Ugh, only if you - sheesh, did you even take your leg off? Dude, you know that’s how you get rashes. And remember that one time when you got the stump infected because you insisted you were totally fine, it was just a little wade through the will-o’-wisp marshes, you barely got wet and you were just going to take a tiny nap -”

“Okay, that’s enough talking from you,” Mike said, pulling the tablet screen currently displaying his manuscript from the array on the desk and starting to read aloud. He’d barely made it through a sentence before the first glaring mistake leapt out at him. “Aw, man, did I seriously write ‘doorman’ instead of 'demon’?”

Alice reached out to nudge his leg with her toes. “Told ya. Sleep.”

“Mm. I’m just gonna correct this first.” Mike’s eyes skimmed over the page, three more glaring errors springing out to smack him between the eyes as he did so. “And this. And this…”

The next time he looked up, Alice’s head was resting on her shoulder, a faint, intermittent snore emanating from her mouth. One of the flaps on her comforter cocoon had fallen open, and she gave a little shiver as one somnambulist hand groped for it.

Mike gently tucked the comforter back in around Alice, before settling back into his deskchair.

Before he turned back to his writing, though, he reached under the desk and unhooked his prosthetic leg.


End file.
